TITLE: Show the Wind How to Fly
Sequel to Synergy
Crossover with Iron Man (movie version)
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...
FEEDBACK: Loved
BETA: okamimyrrhibis
Tony Stark has issues. So has his new Autobot guardian.
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Tony Stark, billionaire industrialist and engineering genius, sat in his workshop underneath the sprawling structure that was his multi-million dollar home, gazing at the three dimensional display of an old 1932 Ford engine. It was no longer the original. He had tweaked here, tinkered there. Colored schematics showed different levels of the intricate machine and he sometimes applied a light pen to the image, shifting parts. Once he was satisfied he would turn to the actual engine and do whatever he had just done with the hologram.
There was silence around him. The drones sat waiting, just in case he caused an explosion. JARVIS was monitoring, without commenting. Pepper hadn't disturbed him for the past, oh, several hours, which either meant it was already late at night or she had just given up and gone home, though that was rarely the case.
There was nothing on his schedule. He had made clear that he didn't want anything disturbing tonight. No gallery opening, no charity event, no party, no unveiling of something or other. Pepper had headed his wishes and rearranged what need to be rearranged, or cancelled what wasn't important. The company would be able to function without him sitting in an office somewhere. That's what a board of directors was for, wasn't it?
Light reflected off the Iron Man suit hanging from suspensions not far away. The armor appeared dead and lifeless, though its systems were running and JARVIS was checking each and every program at the moment. Tony had worked with it until a few hours ago, then had switched gears mentally and turned to the classic car. It was just one in a huge collection, but one with a special meaning.
It was in good company, like a Saleen S7 or an Audi R8. No one but Tony knew that the R8 was even more special than being the very first to be produced by the German manufacturer before the official sale had even begun. He had kept the truth from Pepper and Rhodey. It had been his own decision, not Hot Rod's request. For some reason he needed this to stay his secret for now.
They hadn't had much time to talk between Stark's return from the Arctic, followed by the revelation who the Audi was, and today. Tony regretted it because he was fascinated by the Autobots and now he had a mech residing in his garage. Hot Rod had been here for over two years…
Carefully Stark placed one of the parts he had been fiddling with back into its place, then wiped his greasy hands. His gaze was back on the R8 again.
"You're not the talkative kind, are you?"
"I didn't figure you wanted conversation," Hot Rod simply replied.
"It's not like I had a chance to talk to one of my cars before."
"You're generally alone down here," the mech remarked.
"I prefer it." And JARVIS didn't interrupt him, only kept up conversation if Tony wanted it.
"What do you want to talk about, Tony?"
"I don't know. How about you?"
There was a surprised silence. The R8 shifted a little. "Me?"
"You know everything about me, I know next to nothing about you. Seems only fair to even that out."
"True." There was a kind of reluctance there, but Tony ignored it for now.
"I take it you're not some big shot like Jazz or Ratchet? Politician, senator or head of state?"
Hot Rod chuckled. "No."
"Foot soldier? Battle drone?"
It got Tony a snort. "No."
"Then what?"
"Let's say I'm versatile."
Stark laughed. "That sounds… dirty."
Hot Rod rumbled a little. "Humans," he muttered.
"Hey, your words, pal, not mine."
"I raced," Hot Rod clarified. "Speed's always been in my systems. I worked with those exploring more of our world, parts we knew next to nothing about."
"Adventurer then?"
"Maybe. Back then I easily got bored. I always wanted something new."
Tony smiled. It sounded familiar.
"When the war began… it changed things," Hot Rod went on, voice softer now, contemplative. "I lost friends. Some turned to Megatron. Some disappeared. I didn't realize what was happening until the team I worked with was ambushed by a bunch of Decepticons. I survived. Many didn't."
"And now you're here, my baby-sitter," Tony teased.
"I'm your guardian," Hot Rod corrected, sounding mildly affronted.
"Same difference."
"It was my choice, Tony. I wanted to be back here."
"Must be boring to sit here all day."
"Physical movement isn't required to be active," came the reply. "I spent the past several years in this mode, mainly because of my rather messed-up condition. It's not so different now. I like watching you and your work. I also talk to JARVIS sometimes."
Stark laughed, shaking his head. "Those must be interesting conversations."
"They are. You developed an incredible computer system, Tony."
"Thanks."
"May I ask you a question in return?"
He looked at the silver car and shrugged.
"You haven't taken a companion in a long time."
Tony raised his eyebrows. "Is that an observation or a come-on?"
"An observation."
"And you're interested in that particular part of my private life why?"
Hot Rod was silent for a second. "It's an anomaly."
"Uh-huh."
Part of Tony wondered how often he had had a silent watcher in his exploits with his various guests. True, he had been very interested in companionship before Afghanistan. Ever since he hadn't so much as invited one into his home. They still hung around him, smiling coyly, flirting, offering, some even quite outrageously open, but he had never taken any of them up on their offers since then.
Another three seconds of silence. "Why?" Hot Rod queried again.
Tony gave an exasperated sigh. "Because having an arc reactor implanted into your chest really puts a dent in things, okay?"
"Pepper doesn't mind."
"Pepper's different," he replied without thinking.
Silence again. A rather pointed one this time.
Stark groaned. "No! No, you're not suggesting I fuck my personal assistant!"
"I wasn't. You are attracted to her, though."
"You're worse than JARVIS."
He could almost see the grin when Hot Rod answered, "Thank you."
"And what's between me and Pepper's special and complicated."
"She would probably agree."
"She most definitely agrees." Tony waved his hand at the floating holographic image and it dispersed. Instead he called up other schematics. "And I'm not some rutting bunny or creature in constant heat. Women are nice, but right now there's no place for them in my life."
"Was there before?"
He rounded on the sports car, glaring more. It stung somehow, being reminded of the loss of private pleasure because of the device that kept him alive. He knew some women who wouldn't give a flying fuck as to what he looked like, as long as they could gloat about having slept with Tony Stark.
But Stark had grown up. Nothing like a near-death experience, several actually, to change your look on life.
As for Pepper… she was truly different. He had never tried to bed her. Of course he had flirted and her responses had been adjusted to the occasion. She would ignore him, brush him off, flirt back, be all business, be cold or warm… it was Pepper. She was a beautiful woman and he would never call her anything but, but she was also his assistant. If this turned out to be a brief fling he would lose the one person he could always rely on not lying to him. She would be near-impossible, maybe even completely impossible, to replace. It wasn't worth it.
Hot Rod shifted a little on his shocks. Tony studied the R8. Hot Rod hadn't transformed since they had come back from the very revealing ride to Farview Point three days ago. Normalcy had snatched Stark right back and he had been to his usual meetings and scheduled appearances. Pepper had made sure he wasn't more than an hour late for each event. Tonight was his one free evening, or night, and it was the first time they were talking like this.
"While we're on the subject of questions, here's one for you," he finally said, voice cold, emotions a little off-kilter. "When I lay dying in my workshop, trying to get the Mark I reactor back into my chest… you just sat and watched. Why?"
"I didn't just sit and watch, Tony."
"From where I was dying, it looked that way now that I think about it!" he snarled.
…gasping, every breath strained… labored…
…his lungs felt on fire… his whole torso seemed to burn…
… he wasn't dead yet… the metal hadn't penetrated his heart yet…
…bastard… Obadiah you bastard…
… crawling across the floor…
… pulse thundering in his ears…
… invincible… no longer…
Those long moments were forever burned in his head.
"I couldn't help," came the steady reply. "I arrived at your place while I was completely out. My systems came back online and I found myself down in your garage, part of your car collection. Two more system crashes happened. When I came back on-line, you were just returning from your battle with Obadiah. Tony, believe me, I would never have sat by and watched you die!"
He snorted. "I once believed Obadiah wouldn't either."
"I'm not him," Hot Rod replied, sounding stung.
"You just meddle in my affairs a different way?" Tony challenged.
"I don't understand…"
"The Hill reception. Back then I never made the obvious connection because I was too drunk," he replied, feeling emotions boil more. "I nearly drove off a cliff. You stopped me."
Hot Rod sighed. "Yes."
"But when I banged around the lab and nearly burned your roof with the thrusters, you didn't even so much as flinch!"
"That was different. You were running tests. You weren't in any danger, aside from a few bruises, and I was pretty busy not crashing again."
"You just step in when I'm drunk enough not to notice? Or you thought I wouldn't!"
Tony deliberately ignored the information about the fragile, maybe even dysfunctional state Hot Rod had been in. His logical mind would have agreed that the Autobot had been unable to help. His emotional state of mind was a different matter. He had been dying, damnit!
Hot Rod sighed. It was a slight rattle in his systems. "I couldn't stand by and watch you kill yourself because of your own stupidity."
"So now I'm stupid?"
"I believe substance abuse of the magnitude you practiced warrants that remark," the mech replied coolly. "You recklessly endangered your life so many times, nearly killed yourself several more…"
"What would you know about it?" Tony challenged.
He couldn't remember when drinking had become an addiction. He had never talked to a psychologist, who would blame his childhood, his parents' death, the pressure of the company, the pressure of peers and his own genius. He knew all that. The world he lived in was a shark waiting for him to make a mistake.
Tony had always believed himself to be in control. Obadiah had burst that bubble. Afghanistan had helped sober him up through cold withdrawal before that. He drank moderately now, even though he knew relapse was looming on the horizon each time. His consumption had dwindled and a glass of champagne was the evening's maximum.
"A lot," Hot Rod replied.
"Recovering addict?" he taunted.
"I've seen friends die because of it."
"You can die of over-energizing?"
"No, we can get off-lined by the enemy if we're caught over-energized on bad energon and unable to even understand we're in danger," Hot Rod snapped. "The drug paralyzes our minds, makes us sluggish. It's a great high and a deep fall, like your drugs, and we crave more and more. Our systems adjust to it, want more…"
"Vicious cycle," Tony murmured.
"Yes. And we fall into the hands of the Decepticons, who are only too happy to end our misery."
Stark looked at the R8, could almost feel the anger and pain radiating off him. He had felt his own share. Not just in the last two years, but before. He had lost his family and had gained only surrogates. One of them had betrayed him in every way possible. Trust was an issue now.
Hot Rod rumbled softly, like an engine in neutral gear.
"Don't expect an apology," Stark finally growled.
"I never would."
Because Tony had been labeled as 'arrogant asshole' by most of the media already. Vain, eccentric, genius, self-absorbed, self-obsessed… an inconsiderate prick. All the fun stuff. And asshole was usually a nice term for what people thought of him. He had never cared.
His life was complicated. Not just because he was Iron Man. Not just because he finally got a reality check. He felt the familiar pain at that. Pushing away from the hot rod he walked to the mechanoid namesake, gazing at the softly gleaming silver metal.
Tony Stark had battled loneliness with alcohol, gambled because it took his mind off everything else. It was the only time his overactive, almost hyper brain was really quiet. Just like when he was with a beautiful woman. When it was over… he lost interest.
But not with Pepper. She was different. From every woman he had ever worked with. He hadn't hired her for her looks or her body, but because she was a really bad liar. He had and still did need a person like that. Someone who didn't lie to him, because everyone else did, even the man he had trusted with… himself.
He wanted to tell Hot Rod all of this, but he couldn't. It was something personal; deep inside him. Something only between him and himself.
"I wouldn't betray you," the mech finally said. "My loyalty is with you."
"Even against your own kind?"
That caught he mech off guard. "We wouldn't attack humans!"
"But go against one human or the other. Like me. When I get too dangerous?"
"I was assigned as your guardian. I will be your guardian no matter your opinion," Hot Rod replied stiffly. "Or your trust. Should you try to kill my comrades, I will act against you, but not otherwise."
Tony regarded him thoughtfully. "I want to trust you, Hot Rod."
But can I? I trusted Obi and he had me set up to be killed. He wanted the money and the company, and when my face was no longer required, he was ready to 'lose' me.
"You can, Tony. If I had been able, I would have helped you in the past, but my condition was abysmal. A transformation might have depleted what energon I was able to contain and…" He stopped. "And it sounds like a stupid excuse."
"Maybe. Maybe not." Tony now stood right in front of the silver car. "You're an Autobot."
"Uhm, yes?"
"You hardly sit back and watch humans die if you can help it, unless the bunch I know already is an exception to the rule."
"They aren't. We respect other life."
"You respect me?"
"Yes."
Tony turned and looked at the Iron Man suit. "We'd make quite a team," he mused.
"I doubt I can be your sidekick in your revenge."
"Who says it's revenge?" he challenged.
"Isn't it?"
Stark fell silent. The first time he had seriously taken the armor out in the open he had killed people, blown apart armored vehicles, destroyed lives. Those who had killed with his weapons, those who had killed Yinsen, they had died. He had left the survivors to the angry people they had tried to kill or enslave. He hadn't looked back.
And it had felt good.
After that he had destroyed Stark Industries weaponry, had sought out the enemy forces and eradicated their armory. His company still manufactured weapons, but on a smaller scale and for special purposes. Now it was mainly into medical innovations, communications and aviation.
"Maybe," he murmured. "Not any more. Now it's justice."
Hot Rod hummed silently. "Justice is a double-edged sword, Tony. It's also in the eye of the beholder. You can't take responsibility for every weapon sold."
He didn't reply. Walking over to the rather large fridge in one corner of the workshop he yanked the door open, took out a chilled glass, filled it with ice, then stared at the bottles. He could have everything in the world, expensive or cheap, rotgut or highly sophisticated. All alcohol. All mind-numbing and so familiar. In the end he grabbed a frappuccino.
Pepper would probably believe him to be a hallucination of her wishful thinking. Rhodey would just shake his head and call him obstinate and an ass.
Defiantly, Tony poured the already cold liquid onto the ice cubes in a perfectly fine whiskey glass.
"Satisfied?!"
He looked at the mech, daring him to comment, but Hot Rod remained silent.
He was watching, though.
Tony felt angry. With himself for losing it, with Hot Rod for digging around in old memories, with the world because reality was truly a bitch. He knew whatever he did, it would never be enough. His weapons had already destroyed so many lives, but he had never cared. He had never seen what they did, only what money they reaped in. His mind hadn't been able to stop puzzling about newer and better systems, so he had never stopped development.
Blind! So completely blind! Blinded by the easy life, by luxury, by pretty faces and even prettier words. Shielded from reality and kept like a pet!
Now he had turned his company around, at the risk of crashing completely, and despite his losses, he had gained again.
Personally he had gained more.
Personally he had been to hell twice and survived.
Personally he knew that whatever he put himself through it would never redeem him in his own eyes.
"Yeah, it's revenge," he muttered and downed the rest of the iced caffeinated drink. "And my redemption. And my justice. And everything else you want to call it."
"You won't be of much use drunk," Hot Rod pointed out.
"Google caffeine, Roddy. It doesn't make you drunk. High maybe. In big enough doses. But not drunk."
"I didn't mean right now," came the mild reply. "I meant in future fights. You incapacitate yourself."
"You want to keep me from drinking?" he asked acidly.
"No. That's your own battle. I can't tell you how to live. I can only suggest changes."
He laughed hollowly. "Like all the other well-meaning sharks around me? They smell blood in the water already. But it's not me who's bleeding! Everything has changed already, why not the last shred of the old self?" He slammed the glass down on a work table.
"You started something new, Tony. Something good."
Stark smiled darkly. "Maybe. I'm no longer invincible, but I can change the world."
"Not alone."
"I'm already working for you guys. Don't push!" he warned.
"I didn't suggest you do more. I suggested you allow friendships to grow."
"Like with you?"
"Only if you trust me enough."
And then they were back with the trust issue. Wonderful! Tony didn't reply, just walked over to the suit.
"JARVIS," he only said, voice commanding.
The AI responded by activating the Iron Man armor and Tony went through the process of getting into the exoskeleton. He had sped up the process and while it still took longer than dressing in a tux, it was no longer a completely complicated matter. Just a little more complicated than the tux, including the fly.
He launched into the night sky, feeling this incredible freedom wash over him with each mile. The anti-radar measures were running and he approached supersonic before he suddenly angled his body to rise. The sheer joy to fly was bursting through his veins and he went higher and higher, aiming for the sky, the stars… space. The frosting was no longer a problem. Just the reactor. Power was limited. Still he rose, exhilarated by the chance to be this close to his goal.
"Power at twenty-five percent, sir," JARVIS interrupted him in his joy.
Reality came back.
"Just a little longer, JARVIS," he murmured.
And he ascended more and more. One day he wanted to go into space. One day he wanted to reach the moon.
"Power at fifteen percent. Sir, I recommend you abort and return."
He sighed. It wasn't the first time he had flown this high. The Mark II had had the ice crystal problem. With the Mark III he had found himself caught in the clutches of the Iron Monger. The Mark IV was state-of-the-art, was the currently last and best model so far. He was higher than before, but the arc reactor was depleting.
"Ten percent," JARVIS told him, sounding a bit more urgent now. "Mr. Stark, please return."
"Or what? You fly me home yourself?"
"Hardly, sir. I am not your driver."
He laughed, voice a little hollow. Tony reduced power and just hovered there, feeling none of the cold that was around him. He was completely alone up here, the earth below, the sky above, suspended between reality and a dream.
One day, he promised himself.
He would be here, going toward the moon, stepping onto the Ark.
"Power at eight percent."
"Yeah. Hear you."
He descended, slowly, reluctantly, eyes on the sky. The HUD flashed him more warnings, but he ignored them, angling his body a little to head back to the coast line. As the warnings increased he finally made it to land and touched down, sand boiling up around him as he settled on the beach.
Everything was quiet.
The HUD still flashed at him, but his power levels kept at eight percent and slowly rose. Tony let the silence envelop him as he watched the water not far away. The waves lapped at the sandy beach, a soft rush-rushing noise.
The silence was interrupted by a sound Tony had heard several times before. First it was the familiar rumble of an engine, then the typical transformation. Steps shook the ground, lighter than expected, but still not really very stealthy.
"Got it out of your system?" Hot Rod asked as he stopped beside Tony.
Stark gazed at the dully reflective silver of the Autobot, then met the bright blue optics.
"No," he answered emotionlessly. "Baby-sitter," he then added darkly.
"JARVIS told me you were depleting yourself. I was worried."
Tony sighed, looking at the tall mech with all the HUD information flashing over the display.
"Say, how fast can you go?"
Hot Rod chuckled, probably aware of the change of topic. "Fast than a speeding bullet?"
"Someone else already coined that phrase."
"I know. You're not thinking about racing me, are you?"
"Why not?"
"Your suit's ready to shut down, Tony. Give it time."
"Is that a rain check?"
"If you want to."
He laughed and opened the face plate, let the cool ocean air brush over his face. Tony took off the helmet and his tousled hair was brushed by the wind.
Finally he shot his guardian a smile. "Ever had someone use you as a surf board?" he teased.
Hot Rod smiled back. "There's always a first time."
Tony activated the thrusters and hovered above the sand, then catapulted himself back onto the street. Hot Rod followed and transformed.
"Get on," he invited, sounding amused.
Tony tilted his head, then shrugged and accepted that his own insane proposal was met with the same insane acceptance. As his heavy boots clunked against the car's roof, he briefly wondered about dents and scratches, then ignored that was well.
Hot Rod drove off slowly, letting his human 'rider' adjust to the movement of the car. Tony felt like a surfer without water and he grinned more and more as the speed increased. Using the repulsors now and then he kept himself on top of the car. Hot Rod wasn't racing, but he was going fast.
Tony felt the old exhilaration rise. It drove away the old pain and the feeling of one too many betrayals. It erased the nightmares and just for this moment he was the man he had always been, the man unaware of the ugliness of his business. The man who had been called a merchant of death and not given a flying fuck about it.
He had no care in the world as the scenery flashed past.
Ducking a little, knees bowed some more, arms outstretched, the figure on top of the Audi could have been a double for the Silver Surfer. It wasn't quite like flying, but it pumped the adrenaline through his body. Hot Rod took a corner a little faster and Stark laughed, high on a drug he had just recently discovered: joy. Adrenaline-induced joy.
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They arrived home as the sun crawled across the horizon, the first rays of morning light illuminating Tony's home. He slid off the silver roof, noting that there was hardly any trace he had been on it, and regarded the Autobot silently.
"I need time," was all he said and turned to the service station to let JARVIS help him out of the suit.
"I understand," Hot Rod replied gently.
And then silence settled again. Tony, out of the suit, walked upstairs to take a shower and maybe, hopefully, find some sleep. Hot Rod settled down and let diagnostics run through his own systems, simultaneously connecting to the Autobots' mainframe to check if anything important had happened in the past hours.
Nothing had.
All was as peaceful as it would get.